


It Makes Scents

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek is a Failwolf, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marking, Oblivious Derek, POV Derek, POV Derek Hale, Porn With Plot, Romance, Romantic Derek, Sassy Isaac, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Sharing Clothes, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Kink, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'So you’re saying that Stiles has a crush on me?' Derek asked, and Isaac just gave him a stupid 'are you kidding me with this?' look that made Derek want to bite his head off.</p><p>'Seriously? How could you not know?' Isaac’s smartass look was frustrating Derek way more than it should. 'Every time he’s around you he kind of loses the power of speech, and dude, he… smells.'</p><p>'Smells? Like what?' Derek asked, no small amount of disappointment in his voice."</p><p>a.k.a. that one where Derek is oblivious to Stiles' scent until suddenly he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Makes Scents

**Author's Note:**

> So I really should be writing my Emissary!Stiles fic (which I am, don’t worry, Zain), but I saw this post  
> here and just, yeah. So here’s 4k words of some fluff, porn, and more fluff. 
> 
> DON’T JUDGE ME. But I really loved this prompt. So yeah, enjoy!
> 
> -SK

"So you’re saying that Stiles has a crush on me?" Derek asked, and Isaac just gave him a stupid 'are you kidding me with this?' look that made Derek want to bite his head off.

"Seriously? How could you not know?" Isaac’s smartass look was frustrating Derek way more than it should. "Every time he’s around you he kind of loses the power of speech, and dude, he… smells.”

"Smells? Like what?" Derek asked, no small amount of disappointment in his voice.

Isaac scrunched up his nose as the olfactory memory slid into place. “Like sex. Arousal. Want. The dude wants it from you bad.”

Derek was indignant. “Whatever. I highly doubt that,” he scoffed.

"You couldn’t smell it?” Isaac asked. “Well, that right there should tell you something," he rolled his eyes. Derek gave him a little growl, but his beta didn’t shy away from it. The alpha missed the days that people were terrified of his very look.

Derek scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding his beta with a look that was a cross between a condescending scowl and an intrigued ponder.

Isaac gave him a knowing little half-smile. “Yes it does. You’ve spent so much time with the dude that you don’t even notice his subtle shifts in scent anymore.” He looked at Derek as if he were the thickest thing he had ever seen. “Stiles reeks, especially when he’s around you. Try not to notice it next time. I guarantee you won’t be able to.”

”Fine, I’ll do just that,” Derek retorted back, disappointed that even as an alpha, the majority of his conversations still sounded like the mindless squabbling he and Laura used to do. He was the epitome of self-control, and could avoid the odd sexual advances of a teenager, regardless of how he smelled. And c’mon, it was Stiles.

Except that he couldn’t. The next time Stiles came over to the loft (and Derek threw Isaac out, because the smarmy little beta would most assuredly make everything worse), Derek could literally smell him through the door. His odd, vanilla-citrus-cinnamon scent was edging its way through the seams around it. And there was something else there too, a kind of warm, almost wanting scent, not enough to be as overpowering as Isaac described, but it was definitely there. Combined with the telltale fluttering of Stiles’ heart in his chest as he pulled on the door handle, Derek could see that maybe, just maybe, his beta had been right. But he still wasn’t convinced.

Not until Stiles pulled open the door, and the full potency of his scent hit Derek like a punch in the face.

He had to grip the kitchen counter just to keep himself upright as he took an involuntary, deep inhale.

“Derek?” Stiles asked from the doorway, trying to puzzle out where the werewolf was in the apparently empty loft. “You here?”

He was there. Derek was there. But he was busy having a… problem. He was going to find some way to kill Isaac for this. If the little shit hadn’t said anything… “Yeah,” he croaked, feeling his claws slip through his fingertips as his wolf tried to take over, “I’m here.” He heard Stiles plod toward the kitchen, and he tried to force his way back in control, but the beast was almost completely free, just not in the snarling, angry way that Derek was used to.

“Derek? What the- What’s wrong?” Stiles appeared in the doorway, is voice was laced with sudden fear and concern, darkening his scent slightly, but not enough to matter.

Derek waved a hand, trying to dismiss the unspoken questions certain to begin pouring from the teen’s mouth. Behind his clenched eyelids, he felt the red of his eyes filter into place. “I’m fine,” he growled, as he took another involuntary breath. He was still trying to figure out why his anchors were failing so miserably. Any small footing he once had slipped away as his wolf crashed to the surface completely at the latest whiff of Stiles-scented air.

That was it.

Stiles.

The wolf wanted him. He took a step closer, half-afraid, half-curious, his heartbeat running wild in his chest. But he didn’t have time to react before Derek sort of jumped on him, clearing the distance between them in one long stride, crowding Stiles up against the doorframe, his amber-brown eyes flicking quickly between Derek’s wolfed-out red ones, and his lips pulled over his fangs. His breath caught in his throat. The werewolf’s ears perked up, flicking toward the sound of Stiles swallowing hard, as his eyes moving to follow the movement in his throat. He growled in appreciation, unable to put coherent thought to anything as Stiles’ everything invaded his senses.

So he gave in, and buried his nose into the crook of the human’s neck, drinking deep. And the odd part was, Stiles didn’t try to fight him off. He didn’t panic (even more than he probably already was, given his erratic, sprinting heartbeat), or flinch away. He kind of leaned into it, tilting his head up to give Derek all the access he wanted. Almost like he wanted it, like he knew Derek did too.

Fucking Isaac was right.

Derek’s mind was flicking back and forth between the soft, whining need of his wolf and his own conscious thought as his nose traveled up the expanse of Stiles’ neck, pausing at the hollow of his jaw. Almost on instinct, he opened his lips and pressed them gently into the soft, sensitive skin there, savoring the quiet shudder of Stiles beneath his mouth. A high, soft, meant-to-be-stifled sound escaped the human’s lips. Derek’s heart quickened in response. He tracked down the cord of muscle flanking Stiles’ throat with his lips, alternating between burying his nose in the hot skin and sucking angry bruises into it, as Stiles’ hands found their way underneath the seam of his shirt. He palmed the small of Derek’s back, pulling their hips together desperately. His breathing was fast and shallow, his chest heaving against Derek’s with the racing of his heart as they ground together, soft, pressing rhythm of their hips hardening Derek in his jeans.

It took every ounce of control in Derek to pull his lips back, to part his nose from the thick, heady smell of Stiles’ skin. His nostrils were on fire with it, he could feel it tingle through his nerves, push blood through his veins, everything about it screaming Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. But he needed to stop. Had to. Even though his wolf wanted nothing more than to rub all over the human, Derek forced himself to take control.

He felt like he was finally gaining ground when Stiles slid his long, warm fingers around the base of his jaw, pads of his thumbs hooking over the crook below his ears, and pulled their mouths together with a need that brushed Derek’s resolve aside as if it were nothing. And he was gone. Their mouths locked together, and Derek could taste it as Stiles’ tongue slipped between his lips, tip quivering over the points of his fangs, before brushing along the inside of his upper lip. A soft whimper slipped from Derek’s throat, and he felt Stiles’ lips curl into a smile against his own. With a groan, lightly, almost teasingly, Stiles pressed them over the edge of Derek’s chin and down toward the flushed, sensitive skin of his throat. For a split second, Derek tensed, thinking that his wolf would bristle at the advance, and come up snarling in defense. But it never happened. The instinctive, feral rush Derek had felt when his mind was cast aside by the beast had slipped back into place, almost as if it was under the spell of something else. Or someone.

Stiles again.

It all made sense now. Somewhere, deep down, his wolf had known. Had recognized the hints that Derek himself had missed. The odd epiphany seemed to resound in his mind, and he felt the quiet, wordless agreement of animal with whom he shared his mind.

As the human’s lips trailed across the exposed skin of his chest, Derek thought about who the alpha really was here. But then Stiles had his shirt off over his head, and all Derek wanted was more.

—

There was a trail of discarded shirts, jeans, underwear, and socks scattered right up to the bed. The covers had been kicked off and tangled at the foot of it, remnants from where Stiles had pushed Derek down onto the mattress. He settled in over his hips, his cock hard and leaking as Derek yanked him down to nip at the reddening skin of his chest. Stiles shifted his hips, and Derek felt the head of his own cock brush against the crease of his ass, the quick cascade of tingling warmth flickering across his synapses maddeningly all the way up his spine. He bit down on the meat of Stiles’ shoulder in response, drawing a hiss of mixed pleasure and pain from his kiss-swollen lips. He reached back with a sure hand and pressed into Derek’s cock, spreading the slick pre-come over the thick shaft before finally easing back onto it.

As Derek slid home, he felt every muscle he owned tense, seizing at the tight, warm friction of Stiles’ willing hole. It was everything he could do not to howl, not to let a snarl rip from his lips. Stiles’ scent thickened and pushed its way deeper into Derek’s nose, blotting out coherent thought with short, blurry flashes of beads of sweat pooling in the crook of the human’s neck, or the writhing, back-and-forth slide of his hips, of clawed hands digging into the lean muscle of Stiles’ back, of lips pressed over small clusters of moles, frozen into a silent, wheezing moan against the skin.

It wasn’t more than a few thrusts before Derek felt the the beginnings of his orgasm begin to coalesce at the base of his hips. He dug his fingers into Stiles’ hips as the human moaned, a string of muttered curses and quiet, almost prayer-like whispers of Derek’s name breaking with each thrust. The sound of it was coaxing the werewolf’s frayed nerves into overdrive until finally, there was nothing he could do. Throwing his head back into the pillow and arching his back into Stiles’ hips, he felt the white-hot ball of his orgasm slide into his cock, radiating overcharged waves of blissful pain throughout his body. With a muted, pleading growl, Derek came, Stiles’ hips pulling him in and out and in again, his moans a staccato of obscene noise from the rhythm. His wrecked voice, the touch of his hot skin, his intoxicatingly thick, hungry scent, all of it was consuming Derek, and he didn’t mind.

Within seconds, Stiles was groping frantically at his own cock, fucking into the circle of his hand only a few times before canting his head forward to let loose a broken, deep keen from his parted and swollen lips. Desperately, he brought them down to slot into Derek’s as he came in the space between them, the thick white mess of his come spraying across both their chests. Stiles pulled his mouth back, letting a jagged, wrecked exhale of warm breath play across the sweat-glistening expanse of Derek’s skin. Derek held their heads together as his aftershocks filtered through his nerves, as his nose took in their mingling, heady scents. For a while, they sat there, letting heartbeats and breaths begin to fall back into normal cadence, until Derek felt the wolf slip from behind his eyes.

Stiles chuckled as he watched the green-and-gold irises fade back in place of glowing red ones. Derek gave him a questioning look. He shook his head as he sat back on Derek’s hips. “For a while there, I thought you were going to try to eat me,” he said, his words only half joking.

“Well for a while, I thought I was going to,” Derek admitted. Stiles leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his nose before he slid off of him and rolled off the bed. “The way you smell,” Derek continued, “it was all I could do not to.”

Stiles cocked his head as he slipped into the bathroom to grab something to clean them both off.

“What d’ya mean?” He called.

From there, Derek launched into his conversation with Isaac, and Stiles’ eyes went wide with embarrassment.

“Oh god, so you’re telling me I’ve been walking around, smelling like- like that for a while? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I was apparently used to it,” Derek shrugged as he leaned back on his elbows. “You and I’ve been spending so much time working together recently that…”

“What, you ‘grew accustomed to my scent’?” Stiles fawned sarcastically. He laughed at his own joke and the ridiculousness of it all. Derek didn’t get it, and just kind of let an eyebrow of doom slide up in silent, judgmental question. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Derek nodded as he swiped the towel from Stiles’ hand and wiped himself off. “When Isaac told me, I tried to focus on it, and then… well, you know.” A half-smile curled at his lips as he called to mind what they were doing less than ten minutes ago. He tossed the towel onto the floor.

Stiles crawled back into the bed beside him. “Can you focus on it now?”

Derek nodded again, “it’s kinda…the only thing I can smell at the moment.” Stiles settled himself comfortably on the mattress next to Derek, and let out a sigh as he eased up against him, curving his body along the lines of Derek’s side warmly. Derek wanted to say more, but Stiles didn’t ask, so he didn’t press it. He worried that the weirdness of it all might just serve to scare him off. So he kept quiet, listening to the deep, comfortable rhythm of Stiles breathing in and out next to him, the calm, soothing thrum of his heart, and slowly but surely, they drifted off to sleep.

—

When Derek woke, he found himself sprawled haphazardly across Stiles, his face buried awkwardly in the human’s armpit. He nuzzled against the soft skin of Stiles’ arm, taking in a sharp breath before attempting to doze back off. Around him, Stiles shifted, already half-awake.

“Well this isn’t odd at all,” Derek heard his sleep-addled voice croak, undoubtedly noticing the slumbering werewolf attached to him.

“Shut up, it’s nice,” Derek replied, his voice muffled by the sheets and by Stiles’ warm skin.

“How’s that again?” Stiles asked, still undoubtedly half-dozing.

Derek sighed and propped his chin on the side of Stiles’ chest, watching as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “My mom used to fall asleep with my dad like this on sunday afternoons after we all finished our chores,” he explained, “I used to think it was weird, Laura tried to explain that it was a werewolf thing, that she was drawn to his scent,” he shrugged. “But I was too young to understand at the time. Does it bother you?”

“Nuh-uh, s’good.” Stiles shook his head against the pillow, and turned onto his side, so that he wrapped Derek in a cocoon of his warm, comfortable scent. “I’like your weird werewolf things,” he slurred placidly.

Derek smiled and made a mental note to never mention any of this to Isaac as he drifted back asleep.

—

Over the next few months, Derek found himself noticing Stiles’ scent more and more. How it seemed to sweeten when his thoughts were happy, or when he’d see Derek for the first time that day. He noticed how anger darkened the aroma, souring it in his nose until it started to prickle the nerves. When they kissed, or had sex it became hot, like the fragrant steam that seeped off of a fresh cup of coffee or tea. Its thick, heady odor snapped open Derek’s nostrils and his nerves. It got to the point where he could almost pick up on what Stiles was thinking by the subtle shifts in his scent, occasionally knowing that he was hungry, or brooding, or tired, simply by sniffing a quick breath from his shoulder. Stiles never even batted an eye at that.

It got worse when Stiles started stealing his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing as Stiles emerged from the bedroom wearing one of his henley’s. He was busy heating up some leftover takeout from the night before. It was the first cold week of winter, right before Thanksgiving. Stiles was back from school, staying with him for the weekend. He gave derek a look of righteous indignation.

“What? This place is a freezer. I can’t help it if I don’t have your personal werewolf heating abilities.” Derek growled as Stiles curled up on the sofa, pulling the sleeves of his shirt over his hands and tucking his toes in between the cushions for warmth. As soon as Derek joined him with the food, they were quickly shoved up underneath his thigh. Stiles smiled stupidly as Derek nearly choked from the sudden invasion of frigid digits.

“Do you need some socks for those?” He asked, as his throat tried to expel some lo mein that had slipped down the wrong pipe.

“Maybe, but they like it right where they are too,” Stiles wiggled his toes, nearly sending Derek through the roof again. He leveled a scowl at him. Stiles just laughed

When Stiles left the following night, Derek hung the shirt back up in his closet like he normally did, and didn’t realize until the next day that everything in there was coated in the familiar, lingering scent. Derek didn’t mind. He just shrugged the shirt on after he showered, and pretended that Stiles was still there.

He all but forgot to wear anything else for the next week, and when Stiles showed back up the following weekend, he may have suspected something.

At least, so Derek thought. Because now a few of his shirts would go missing for days at a time, and then, the next time Stiles came back over, there they’d be, sitting neatly folded on his dresser, almost dripping in his familiar, warm scent.

—

It was the night before Stiles was headed back for to BHU for the spring semester when Derek knocked on his bedroom window.

“What’s up, Sourwolf?” he asked as he lifted the sash to let him in. Derek sighed. Stiles knew that sigh.

“You’re leaving.” He sounded all morose and sullen, like someone had killed his puppy.

“Yeah, for college. For my last semester. I’ll only be right down the road, dude.”

“An hour-long drive is not ‘right down the road’ you know.”

“What, it’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of me,” Stiles shrugged as he shoved some of his desktop items into a box on his chair. “I mean, you said it yourself, the entire apartment smells like me. It’ll be like I’m still there.”

“But you won’t be.”

Stiles gave him a small grin. “You can always come visit, dude.” Derek cocked his head, as if he hadn’t thought about it. His bearing seemed to lighten a little bit at the thought. “Besides, if you get really lonely, you can always just bury your head in one of the pairs of boxers you stole from me that you think I don’t know about,” Stiles smirked as Derek’s eyes went wide, color creeping up to his cheeks as he fumbled for a response. Gotcha.

“I didn’t- I mean- I was just-” He groaned, actively wishing for the ground to open up underneath his feet. “You were gone for a month. It was a very stressful time,” he keened.

Stiles laughed as he abandoned his half-hearted packing to close the distance between them. He wrapped his hands up underneath Derek’s shirt, pressing long fingers against the small of his back, pulling their hips together warmly. Derek sighed at the contact, his ears still pink. “Relax, dude,” Stiles whispered, tilting his head to meet Derek’s downcast eyes. “I don’t care. I know you do it out of lov-” He cut himself off before he finished the word, panic seeping audibly into his heartbeat.

Derek flicked his gaze up suddenly, shadow of surprise etched across his seafoam-and-gold-flecked irises. Stiles palmed his face to hide the blotchy flush of embarrassment occurring there.

Derek just laughed before planting a small, way-too-sure kiss onto Stiles’ traitorous lips. “I do love you, you know.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief, his scent fading back to its regular sweetness. “I know. I love you too. Weird werewolf nose and everything.” It was the first time they had said it to each other.

The next day, Derek found a box stuffed with ten of Stiles’ flannel shirts sitting in front of the loft door with a note.

—

Sourwolf-

For your nose. I hear it gets lonely.

P.S. There’s a pair of boxers in the bottom ;)

Love,

-SS

—

Derek waited on the stone bench across the small courtyard from the one and only student apartment complex at Beacon Hills University. It was mid-January, and winter was in full swing. Derek had driven up to surprise Stiles for the weekend. Classes were just letting out, and a flood of people were coming and going from the building to the adjacent campus, meandering on the sidewalk around the bench to cross the street that separated them. Derek tapped his foot nervously, until a familiar, citrusy scent made its way into his nose.

Despite the cold, he felt a rush of warmth, like a hot summer breeze just brushed through the frigid air, just for him. He turned his head toward it. Sure enough, Walking toward him from the other side of the street, talking to a few other students, was Stiles. He was texting absentmindedly (probably Scott) as he laughed at something one of his companions said. Derek leaned over the back of the bench, waiting for the human to notice him, his heart literally skipping a beat in anticipation. As if on cue, Stiles looked up from his cell, catching Derek’s eye with his own amber-brown ones and it took a second, but then he smiled.

Derek could smell the happiness radiating out of him, even with the crowd of people around both of them and the cars passing by in the street. It was still the first thing that came to mind when anybody asked him what he loved the most about Stiles. Ever since he had walked through Derek’s door that day, what seemed like ages ago, and Derek had, for the first time, really noticed him, yeah, it was the first thing that came to mind. Even after all this time.

And he had his nose to thank for that.

Well, and Isaac. But hell if Derek was going to tell him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! Also, I beta'd it myself, so if you notice any typos, feel free to let me know.
> 
> And don't forget to check out the rest of my Sterek stuff on my tumblr
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> -SK


End file.
